The Cry of My Shadow
by M.R.H.I
Summary: Fuji wants to know what love means, if he is capable of such thing, and luckily for him, someone believes so. TezuFuji, MysteriousCharacterFuji. OOC!Fuji(!)


**Title:** The Cry of my Shadow - Part I  
**Author:** orgilion  
**Rating:** NC-17 for a flashback non-consensual, sexual content  
**Genre:** Romance Angst Fluff  
**Pairings:** Tezuka/Fuji, Saeki/Fuji non-con  
**Summary:** Fuji wants to know what love means, if he is capable of such thing, and luckily for him, someone believes so. OOC!Fuji(?)  
**A/N**: My first PoT fic. My first non-con, even if it's only a flashback. It's been a while since I last wrote smut, so if there's any mistake, please forgive me. This is un-beta, so if anyone likes it and/or is very annoyed at my mistakes, please do help me beta this ficlet. Thank you. There are two parts to this ficlet, and I don't know when the next part is finished, so please wait patiently and don't give up! Constructive criticism is encouraged, but blatant insults are completely out of the question :P

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The Cry of My Shadow

Tezuka / Fuji

**PART I

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There were times when Fuji wondered what it was like to be loved. He'd heard about it, being spoken in hushed whispers like sweet secrets drawn out slowly in savored pleasure. He saw the way the experienced ones gaze out of the windows as if in deep contemplation and would, once in a while, sigh with a dreaminess that could only be described as satisfaction in remembrance. It made him wonder, quirked his curiosity, and just like every seventeen year old boy, Fuji wanted to understand it. He wanted to know the true passion of love, the claimed completion people spoken of as if a dream in heaven. He didn't understand, he didn't know why so many people gave up their control and heart for it, and he yearned for the answer.

It was ridiculous, but Fuji found that he was unable to concentrate in anything he did. His mind wandered in class, and the food he ate tasted nothing in his mouth. He even lost his passion for the only thing he truly cared, and his distracted mind was easily seen in tennis practices these days.

He knew his teammates were worried, which only brought him a guilty feeling that he couldn't chase away. Every emotion he was experiencing clouded his heart like a dark mist. It blinded his sight, and he seemed to have lost his aspiration as well. There was a numbing feeling that silently dwelled inside him, making him doubt that he had the ability to love another, doubt that he was worthy enough of that sacred emotion, and he realized with shame that perhaps he wasn't. The bitter belief did nothing to ease his already confused mind.

For weeks this carried on, and Fuji vaguely became aware that his grades were slowly dropping, along with his once easy focus when it came to tennis. He was indifferent to his surrounding, being swallowed inside his foolish thoughts and the desire for something so foreign. So absorbed was he in these afflicted feelings that Fuji did not notice the eyes of an observer, vigilantly watching him from day to day.

It was on a warm evening that something unexpected came up, and Fuji would still wonder for years to come if it had helped him forget his confusion or made him aware of his wants or perhaps both, but that didn't matter right then.

Fuji was hitting the tennis ball relentlessly against the wall near the court, completely oblivious to the fact that the sun had set long ago and had brought out the starry night. Sweats poured down his flushed face, and his shaky arm begged to end this forceful exertion of energy, but he didn't want to, knowing that once he stopped unwanted thoughts would fill his mind again.

Then, in the silence of the night a soft voice was heard, calling his name as if it was a song. "Syusuke."

The racquet in his hand slipped and in that short instant the ball whizzed past him, barely missing his face. Heaving heavily he turned around, too tired to be irritated by this disturbance... or perhaps, he just lacked the ability to feel altogether.

"Tezuka," Fuji acknowledged, carelessly letting the fact that Tezuka had called him by his first name pass by. "What are you doing here?"

Tezuka's expression was hard. There was a fierce fire in his eyes and his mouth was set in a thin line. Somehow Fuji had a feeling that the captain was furious. "What about you? Do you have any idea what time it is?" Tezuka demanded, worry causing him to speak harshly.

Fuji's smile was devoid of feelings. "Does it matter? I just lost track of time. I'll go home now." He picked up the ball lying on the grass and began making his way toward the locker room, listening to Tezuka's quiet footsteps matching the rhythm of his own. Oddly enough, the knowledge of having a companion soothed his mind somewhat.

As Fuji packed his things away, Tezuka took the chance to talk. "I don't know what's wrong with you," he admitted truthfully, getting to the point; there was no reason to beat around the bush, anyway. "Your lack of concentration is hurting the team, as well as your grades." Fuji zipped close his bag and opened his locker, beginning to change. Standing from where he was, Tezuka could only glimpse part of his friend's face, visible under the hazy light. "I've known you since we first entered Seigaku, and never before have I seen you acted this way."

Fuji remained silent, slipping his shirt off and pulling his school uniform out. Tezuka was impatient, frustrated by the fact that Fuji was a hard nut to crack when he especially felt stubborn, like he was now. Resolutely he shut the door, listening to the lock falling in place with finality, and approached Fuji, his steps full of purpose.

Fuji was startled when he felt Tezuka's firm hands grabbing him by the shoulders. Instinctively he looked up, and the captain's furious face came into view. "Tezuka..." Fuji said, bewildered. It was rare to see Tezuka angry, and never before was the captain's fury directed at him. The dark flames blazing in his eyes, the angry curves of his eyebrows, the crimson hue shading his high cheeks, and the hurtful grip he was imposing on Fuji... it was all he could take before he turned away, feeling frightfully cold. "Let go," he said quietly.

Instead of doing so, Tezuka pulled him closer, enough for Fuji to feel the radiating heat but not yet close enough for contact. "You're bothered by something, I know it," he said, forcing his friend to look into his eyes with determined fingers. "I've been watching you for days, and unless you tell me what it is, I won't let you go."

Fuji tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating. "Why do you care, Tezuka? This doesn't concern you."

It seemed like he had said something inappropriate, because in the next instance Tezuka had taken a step back, his face shut down of all emotions, but Fuji thought he had glimpse something akin to disbelief flashing across that stern face. "Tezuka...?" Fuji voiced hesitantly.

Tezuka was leaning against the lockers, his head turning the other way so that Fuji couldn't see the bitter expression that Tezuka never thought he would show. He didn't think it would be so painful to hear such thoughtless words. Had Fuji never realized? Had he not noticed the longing glances, the fleeting touches, and the rare smiles that Tezuka saved only for him? Shakily he raised his hand to his forehead, wondering why there was a burning sensation behind his eyes...

Then he felt a soft touch to his arm. Instinctively he jerked away. "_Don't touch me_," he whispered harshly.

Fuji was bewildered at Tezuka's words, spoken with such intensity and feeling... as if he _meant _it.

And suddenly Fuji couldn't take it anymore.

Tezuka felt rather than saw, but he turned to Fuji as if in slow motion, knowing before seeing. The boy was looking at him, crystal clear tears spilling from his eyes like the autumn's rain. The lovely azure eyes were open, revealing the unspoken confusion he'd been experiencing and the unbearable sadness he'd endured for so long.

"What do you want me to do, Tezuka?" Fuji said wretchedly. "It's not like I want to be like this. It's not like I don't know what sort of predicament I'm putting my teammates in with my practically nonexistent concentration. But what _can_ I do? I don't know how to stop what I'm feeling. You may think I'm indifferent, I lack motivation, or I just don't care, but how would you know what I go through? You have no right to demand an explanation. And there's no reason for you to do so. Aren't you always indifferent, as well? Don't you prefer that people leave you to your business?" And somehow, the subject of Fuji's talk turned to him. "You're always silent, always by yourself. No one knows anything about you, and they leave you alone, but you're better at adapting in situations than I am, so there's nothing that troubles you. You wouldn't know what it means to be so hurt." Fuji backed away with each word he said, and the cold metal of the lockers touched his back. "You just can't understand."

It was then that Tezuka realized there was no need for an explanation. It didn't matter if he knew what was going on or not, all that mattered was somehow, he could end this torment Fuji allowed himself to feel. From the way Fuji had spoken, Tezuka could understand a little bit of the situation.

"Fuji," Tezuka said, startling the other boy when he wrapped his arms around the slight body. When Fuji didn't resist, Tezuka tightened his grasp and whispered. "You may be troubled, but you don't have to bear it alone. I'm here." Tezuka closed his eyes, feeling a turmoil of emotions running deep inside. "I'm always here."

It was as if a doorway had been opened inside Fuji's head, and all of the sudden he understood Tezuka's feelings like they were his own... feelings that were pulsing hotly and divulging themselves so carefully. He could feel the captain's heartbeat in counterpart from his, fast and comforting, like the sound of coming home.

"Tez - Kuni-kun," Fuji said softly, his arms going around Tezuka's neck. If felt good, having Tezuka so near him, like a fire in the vast desert's night, warm and unwavering under the blasting wind. Fuji didn't think he could ever feel so blissful.

Tezuka was more than surprised to hear his name being spoken so familiarly, and it felt so _right_, coming from Fuji. In a surge of joy he pulled Fuji even closer, though that was practically impossible. "You finally said my name," Tezuka remarked.

There was a hesitant pause, then Fuji asked, "Were you waiting?" _For me? For a sign? For something that is uncertain and tainted and unworthy? How could you possible be waiting_? Fuji never voiced his thoughts, because he didn't know how to without breaking down.

"I've always been," Tezuka answered honestly. "You said I don't know what it means to be hurt, but you're wrong, Fuji. Perhaps I know the very meaning of hurt better than you." Tezuka could feel the heat radiating from Fuji's bare back, and the scent of sweat and spice surrounding him, and it was _Fuji_ who he was holding, not a shadow of yearning dreams. "After all, those in love know it better than anyone else."

Fuji went rigid upon hearing those words, his mind flashing with images and emptiness. It felt like something inside him was revealed, broken and now left vulnerable and bare to the eyes. The fragile barriers he'd built around himself came crumbling down like the sand castles being washed away by the merciless sea, leaving no traces of where it could have been because everything was _gone_. The confusion that he'd been facing for the past few weeks seemed to have doubled so that Fuji didn't know what was going on anymore.

Tezuka heard a sharp intake of breath, and soon he felt a warm wetness staining the back of shirt, quickly turning cold. Concerned and perplexed he pulled away, but just barely, and looked at Fuji's anguished face. The wretched tears flowed like mercury leaking out from cracked glass, piercing both he and Fuji with a stabbing pain, Fuji because of his dejected emotions, Tezuka because he finally breached through the other's barriers to find shattered glasses. "Fuji...?" Tezuka said, so quiet that for a moment he wondered if he'd said anything at all.

Fuji shook his head, feeling Tezuka's fingers brushing away his weakness. "How could you say that? To _me_? You couldn't be... you're lying, Tezuka!" And his lips trembled with unsuppressed misery. "I'm empty, can't you see? My ability to feel is absent, and has always been. How could you say that to someone like me? I'm not worthy enough. You can't possibly be serious." Fuji grasped onto Tezuka's arms, almost desperately as he raised his anguished eyes to the captain's. "Please tell me you're not." His eyes closed, as if he was too tired to face the world. "Please." The whisper escaped from his lips like a falling feather, soft and almost aimless.

The room seemed to be drowning in silence too profound to be broken so lightly, but it was finally broken, just like Fuji's will.

"No."

Fuji's eyes were wide and shocked, like a wild bird's with his clipped wings, unable to escape from whatever that was holding it back. He attempted fruitlessly to break away from Tezuka's strong grip, but Tezuka had made up his mind. After all that Fuji had said, he finally realized what was wrong with him.

"No," he repeated, loudly this time. "I refuse to do such thing, because I _am_ serious, more so than you could comprehend right now." Tezuka tilted his friend's face up gently, forcing those tears stained eyes to lock with his. "Please believe me, Fuji, because it's taken all my courage to tell you, and now you say that you can't feel." Tezuka's fingers slipped into the light, silky hair and he pulled Fuji's head closer. "Is that your way of rejecting me? because it won't work. I've watched you since I first met you, and perhaps out of all of us, you are the one that feel most strongly about everything." Those fingers fell onto the protesting lips, quieting Fuji with an undemanding touch. "Don't deny it, just look at the way you've been behaving these past weeks, Fuji. If you can't feel, as you claimed, then explain to me why you are suffering?"

Fuji felt weak. Tezuka's caresses were chasing all his reasons away and then, as if being swept away, his knees buckled, and it was only because of Tezuka that he was still standing. "Tezuka..."

"As for being worthy or not," Tezuka said gently, as if speaking to a child who had lost his way, "let me decide."

At those words Fuji suddenly found himself remembering, flashes of white and black on a dark night with the waves of ocean drowning out the breathless whispers and gasps and pain and washing away the traces of shame. The memory turned him pale, and he fell slump against Tezuka, on the verge of giving up completely.

"Fuji...?" Tezuka asked, wondering if he should sit his friend down.

"I'm tainted," Fuji whispered. "And it hurts." Fuji's hands balled into fists, pressing against the captain's chest. As if in a trance he said, "I don't want it to hurt, but it did and I'm tainted and scared and I'm not worthy Tezuka how could you want someone like me..." Tezuka was bewildered at Fuji's words, falling out of his lips like fragments of a haunted memory.

"Fuji," Tezuka called, but Fuji wasn't even listening, his mind already far back in the past.

"It's so hard to forget," Fuji said, his voice shaky and breathless. "Because whenever I remember I could see _myself_..." Tezuka could feel Fuji's body shivering as if being wrapped in ice, but this was a different sort of shivering, the sort that told him Fuji had been hurt.

Tezuka pushed the other boy back, so that he would sit down on the wooden bench, then he kneeled down before him. "Tell me," he whispered, horrified and angry. "_Tell me, Fuji_."

And, like a dream unraveling itself, Fuji fell into the shadowed hands of a buried memory.

**:FLASHBACK:**

_The cool breath of the salty wind brushed against his burning skin... the sound of the rustling sea pulsed in his ears... everything was so clear and vague and incoherent at the same time... it was making him sick._

_He could feel the sand under his fingers, warm and slipping away as he clenched his fists and arched up with a sigh. Fingers swept over his body, and he shivered, wondering if it was because of the soft touches or the biting breeze. Words fell from his lips, but there was a sort of repetitive rumbling behind his head, turning him deaf to the world._

_It was alright, he thought blurrily, and for a time his mind blanked out from everything, until he felt lips on his own, urging and then forcing and then invading his mouth so violently and almost unknowingly. Discomfort fluttered in his stomach, and weakly he tried to turn away, hands raising to push the other off him, but then somehow, his hands were above his head, securely tied._

_It was then that the pounding noise inside his head vanished, and he could hear again._

_"Syusuke..." a slurred murmur against his lips, then his mouth was dominated by teeth and tongue and he choked very hard but he couldn't move and it was all so confusing..._

_The light caresses were gone, leaving only traces of its existence, which were quickly forgotten as those very fingers turned cold and violent and he cried out in agony for the first time in so long, but his cry was soon swallowed by another kiss, but it was so empty and hurtful that Fuji couldn't tell if it really was a kiss._

_"Hush, now..." Those lips grazed his ears, and Fuji could feel a wisp of light hair brushing his face, could feel the pain as the other boy sunk his teeth into his neck, drawing blood, but it didn't stop there; again and again Fuji felt his mouth and hands and skin all over his body, mouth kissing and licking and biting and fingers gripping and digging into his flesh hard so that he thought he was being burnt._

_It was an awful feeling, Fuji realized, as those fingers deftly curled around his manhood, at first gently, then roughly. Fuji jerked back, a cry tearing out from his throat. It was the last time that night his scream was heard, because then a cloth was pressed against him mouth, and in shock Fuji's eyes opened, fixing themselves on the flushed face of the person above him - the person he trusted._

_"Saamhm," Fuji gagged, regaining most of his consciousness back. With anew fever he tried to push himself away, words dying in his throat as those fingers worked themselves around him, and before he knew it, they were replaced by a closing heat._

_Against his will Fuji pushed his hips up, feeling shame welling up inside him. The slick, talented tongue gave a lick, and another, sliding up the length of his erection, until that mouth took him inside once again. Fuji jerked and cried and struggled, but it was futile against such strength._

_And then Fuji felt something riding up his legs, pressing in between his buttocks. It seemed as if the blood in his body had frozen over, and in horror he stared up at the face above him - eyes unfocused, hair disarrayed, shirtless, mouth opened in apparent bliss - and wondered how it could have gone so horribly wrong._

_"Umghm!" Fuji choked when his scream fell lost in his throat. The penetration was violent, rough, dry, without preparation but force and the tears fell down from his eyes like rivers of sickness. The pain was palpable - so sharp, so sick, so excruciating. It made him want to run and never look back to this night, this place, this _betrayal

_Those lips whispered his name over and over again, like an enigmatic spell that had taken his reason away. With each thrust of the hips Fuji was brutally taken, yet he couldn't utter a word, he couldn't call for help, and so, he did the only thing he could and shut his mind to the world._

_The echo of a blissful groan sounded in the black night as the man above him came, spilling himself inside Fuji. With a satisfied sigh he slumped over the slim body, which was immobile and numb. The cerulean eyes were staring up into the vast darkness, vacant and dry. Anyone who looked at him then would have doubtlessly believed his soul was lost, like a child that couldn't hold on to his last hope._

_The morning after, Fuji was greeted with a tear stained face and many heart wrenching apologies, and with a devastatingly empty smile Fuji told him he was forgiven, no longer comprehensible as to what the definition of forgiveness meant._

**:END FLASHBACK:**

The locker room, it seemed to Tezuka, had never been more devoid of sound than at that moment. The air felt like it was closing around him, and he couldn't quite breathe. He could still hear the silent echoes of Fuji's words - words that shaped themselves into a nightmare of violence and pain. Slowly, as if in a trance, he fell down on the floor, his back to the lockers. Time seemed to have lost its existence, the air he breathed seemed to have left him suffocated, and all he could see what a vivid image of Fuji's memory. He was speechless, he was beyond shock, he was everything that Fuji expected he would be after hearing such things.

Tezuka knew he had to compose himself. He couldn't upset Fuji more than the boy already was, but how? How could he when his mind was in a jumble of uncertainties and hesitation? How could he when Fuji had so bluntly confirmed his fear - a fear that he had, over and over again, convinced himself was just a figment of his overactive imagination?

And all of the sudden, Tezuka couldn't bear it. His body began to tremble uncontrollably, and almost unconsciously he shielded his face with an unsteady hand. _Get a grip_, he told himself, but it was impossible. It was as if his will over his body had abandoned him, leaving Tezuka baring his shock and rage to Fuji. He couldn't even look at the other in the face, and as if by some cruel force, he questioned, _"How?"_

It felt as if Tezuka had physically slapped him across the face, and it stung. The simple word, barely discernible was laced with dismay and unbidden horror. Horror? Was he hearing it right? Tezuka... was horrified of him? For what? Because he wasn't this wonderful, beautifully unsullied angel Tezuka had always believed him to be? Because he wasn't dying slowly inside because of some decent, important matter, but because he was mulling over the emptiness of his soul and the possibility that he was, after all, a casualty of life and its ignorance?

Without a word he stood up and hurriedly changed. He couldn't stand this, this... humiliation. The way Tezuka had responded to his confession, the shameful secret that was shredding his mind apart... it as if the world had pulled itself from below his feet. Anger swelled inside him. Why should Tezuka be surprised at all? He shouldn't have expected anything from him. After all, Fuji owed him nothing, not his life, not his trust, not his love...

Fuji grabbed his tennis bag and was swiftly gone from the locker room. He was stupid, _he_ shouldn't have expected anything from Tezuka, not his understanding or his acceptance. How could anyone accept this truth when Fuji couldn't even begin to acknowledge that it'd happened?

He just thought Tezuka was different, that was all, _hoped_ he was different. Apparently not.

When the door shut itself with a soft click, Tezuka fell out of his reverie as if surfacing a dream. The locker room was empty, and Tezuka knew he should go after Fuji, to tell him what he thought, what he still thought, but fury had seized his mind, and he knew that he could never be able to explain himself to Fuji eloquently when he could barely contain his inundated emotions.

But he knew exactly what he could do in this state of mind.

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**END OF PART I

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**Part II** - is la fin. Tezuka proves his love and acceptance to Fuji in the most unexpected way, and we learn that Tezuka is capable of cold-blooded cruelty when he's angry. Fuji decides if holding on to the past is worth it, and gives Tezuka his answer.

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End file.
